The Depths of Heaven

Wish you were still on the ladder instead of enjoying the depths of heaven

I would kick it away, does my weakness show, am I on the ladder then,

slam dancing to techno, you still party? If not, are you a nesting machine, 

what are you, did you just do your farewells with all that,

will your gentlemen's bet seem like a shredded voice from the past, 

did you really just say that and thinking back did you really just say that then,

how does one perceive post-pairing is it really the joy 

of the fall barrage of apple peel curling in the sink, the compactor backed up,

lifting it out you oxidate in real time, they don't fall like rose petals do they,

scattered now on the tile, sticky glops that will crust on sock bottoms,

the cats glaze over, is it the same squirrel every morning, 

did the racoon get it, is it regenerating on the perch, the same squirrel jumping a

Mario barrel pattern Kong levelling up. What's in a club, why is this exceptional,

I know café culture in the century of the self, let's not celebrate it 

but ideas are ideas I don't mind a small one, I've embarrassed myself, 

I've interloped, I love youth culture, maybe,

may I ask not to stay static and watch my generation shrivel up,

and the next one 

and then the one after that, 

vampires regurgitate ideas,

I just want a spoon to feed mine.